113

“Speaking as your president, General Raines,” Blanton again radioed Ben. “I command you to lay down your arms and surrender.”

“I do not recognize you as President of the United States,” Ben told the man. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“I was elected by the people!”

“You were elected by a minority of the voters and that was years ago. Washington is still hot from a nuke strike. Richmond is a ghost town in ruins. For years now, Base Camp One is and has been the only stable area of government in America. However, I will accept your surrender, Homer.”

“My surrender? My surrender! To hell with you, Raines. You arrogant son of a bitch!”

“That beats an ol’ pooter, I suppose,” Ben replied, then signed off.

“Scouts report massive troop movement westbound along Canadian Highway 11,” Corrie told him. “First column, commanded by a General Forrest, approaching Thunder Bay. About three hundred miles out. They can’t cross at Sault Ste. Marie.”

“They committed to Thunder Bay, then. That would be Matt Forrest. He’s a good, decent man. One of the few military men who supported Blanton back when. Forrest is strictly by-the-book and did not approve of special operations people such as Rangers, SEALs, LRRPs, and so forth. He doesn’t have much imagination. Who is commanding the second division?”

“A General Holtz.”

114 “Walt Holtz. Another good man. I knew him in Vietnam when he was a shavetail lieutenant. He’s also by-the-book. Division three?”

“General Tom Thomas.”

Ben sighed. “All good decent men. No bad guys among them, unless it’s this General Paul Revere. And I never heard of the man. Has intelligence come up with anything on him?”

“Nothing that hasn’t been passed along to you, sir.”

“Which so far amounts to nothing.”

“When are we going to tangle with them, General?” she asked.

“Ike is in that vicinity with West and Striganov. That’s up to him. Get him on the horn while I get a cup of coffee.”

“Go, Ben,” Ike said a moment later.

“How’s it look?”

“Grim. We’re not going to be able to stand and slug it out with these people. Too many of them. My latest intel says a minimum of three divisions, sixty thousand men, and probably a backup division, or two. The only crossings open for several hundred miles are Thunder Bay, one south of Winnipeg, and another south of Regina.”

“All right, Ike. You take the Thunder Bay crossing. I’ll shift Dan, Rebet, and Greenwalt south of Winnipeg. I’ll take Jim Peters and Jackie and plug up south of Regina. Good luck.”

Ben turned to Corrie. “Let’s roll. Break camp.” He looked over at Jersey.

She smiled. “Kick ass time, General.”

“Yeah,” Ben said. “But whose ass is going to get kicked?”